Mister Ozzy the Dog - NeMachka is angry
Hello peasants, Here’s NeMachka… hmmm… I hear people are talking and writing about me. Finally! I’ve finally figured out what Ozzy is doing, and while he’s sleeping on the soft rug all stuffed, I decided to steal his equipment and maybe even his fame to write a few lines myself, so let’s see what happens. To start, maybe I should tell my story. So, I was tiny, so small I could fit in the palm of your hand. I was all alone on the street. And yes, it’s true, I was near a dumpster, but only to find something to feed myself and survive because I was left all alone at the mercy of fate — not because, as some say, I fell out of a dumpster, was born in a dumpster, or lived in one. Ugh! Then he appeared in my life—my Prince and my savior. Or at least he considers himself something like that; I just think that from that moment on my life became all milk and honey and that I deserve it. He brought me into his apartment, examined me, and then established that I had fleas. I even think he ...